


Take Me Down to Your Paradise

by giwp



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Asexual Minor Character, Bisexual Female Character, Cool For the Summer, F/F, Kissing, M/M, Mild Language, Song Lyrics, alternative universe - famous, neither Ymir nor Krista are asexual, sorry for any confusion before this, yumikuri
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-10
Updated: 2015-08-10
Packaged: 2018-04-13 23:21:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 16,450
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4541325
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/giwp/pseuds/giwp
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Krista Lenz, a well-known artist in the world of pop music and all things preteen but also a figure head for a movement that no one in the media could have ever expected. She was a force to be reckoned with and when the time came for a different, a surprising, awakening in the world of music the reactions came in slow waves that built into a thunderous storm around her.</p><p>There were four of them and all in turn they acted as the place’s bouncer and the inner workings. The rogue employee would act as a server or a busboy but the liquor and maintaining a certain amount of enjoyment from the customers were all held on the four’s shoulders. This meant the occasional rotation in and outside the entryway and right now Ymir was very intent on getting to that hour mark where she could finally sit down and down a glass or three before calling it a night and heading home. </p><p>A story about finding a chance at peace and a change from the monotonous. They both want an escape and Krista falls asleep with a reminder to thank Marco for dragging her out of the house.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Take Me Down to Your Paradise

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is a late birthday present for [acemockingjay](http://acemockingjay.tumblr.com/) because he's my main hoe
> 
> Discretion: What Krista thinks about and changes about herself is my interpretation of her character and I'm sorry if it seems a bit OOC for you. I tried to keep the manga in mind while writing! Also I go off about bisexual erasure but whatevs
> 
> Enjoy!!

Stripping away from all things angelic and good in the world had been both a blessing a curse for the young girl.

She’d grown around bottled little princesses – the signs of plastic easier to spot than a real sense of pride for the bullshit that was usually spilling out of their mouths. Grown accustomed to the ramblings on all things presidential to growing up pink and poppy, it was due past her time to act on some aspect of the rebellion inside her.

Dropping her façade, the splashes of pastels too outdated for her tastes and the burn of hairspray sprayed in her face to keep the cheap mask on at all hours of the day was as simple as finally jotting her thoughts down on a scrap piece of paper.

She’d grown from the small little girl that traveled on the reins of her mother’s sleeves around a city she thought was too big for her petite frame. She was a lot different now than she was when being stuffed into princess gowns was a norm of the daily grind in front of cameras that were relentless in catching her slip on her ½ inch heels. She’s outgrown the frills and the slow ebb towards a world unknown to her but familiar to all those her age had been harsh and brutal but exhilarating all the same as she slid here feet from cramped heels and favored the weightlessness in boots heavy enough to squash the bugs herself for once.

Krista Lenz, a well-known artist in the world of pop music and all things preteen but also a figure head for a movement that no one in the media could have ever expected. She was a force to be reckoned with and when the time came for a different, a surprising, awakening in the world of music the reactions came in slow waves that built into a thunderous storm around her.

Her thoughts had always been left where her mother deemed them worthy enough to be – inside her head. They’d built up over time as naturally as thoughts of sudden urges and needs were expected to happen. Her hours spent in front of mirrors as a younger version of her present self had ended up becoming hours and days trying to will her eyes from straying on things that weren’t meant to be lingered on. Eyes casting glances from time to time and the sudden burst of heat flooding her cheeks blamed on the amount of sugar some offhand runner must have given her or the too sweet effects of a tea gone cold hours ago.

But she tried. She tried so hard not to deny herself the fact that her eyes did linger on zippers of girls that were too beautiful to only background side pieces on a stage where she felt the most alone. She didn’t lie to herself that more than anything she wanted to hold one of their hands while she was made to walk the stage back and forth and smile when the cameras asked her to. The guilt of dropping from her mother’s world and into the unknown with new managers had been something that had bothered her at first but slowly it had ebbed into a dull pain.

The living definition of a Hannah Montana copy-cat was an image thrust onto her from the get-go but she had managed to work with what she had. She had made a name for herself as something young girls everywhere could look up to as she sang about falling for boys too dangerous to pursue and once the original dolls of youth media had grown tired of their gigs, she’d stayed and reigned higher than those before her.

Krista sang her songs, and she tried her best, but it wasn’t enough when there was a world outside those revolving doors of the 5-star hotel she was forced to stay inside that she knew little to nothing about. The monotonous life of singing about the same boys and wishing to be enough for someone that didn’t exist had become tired and old to her. There was so much more to learn and although the steps had come as a shock rung across the entire world as “Krista Lenz stepped down from her throne with new song”, her mentality stayed resilient as she pushed her way through those doors.

Her latest release, a single meant to do little more than shake the Top 100 charts at the start of the summer, was done more than call attention to lyrics written in the middle of restless nights.

 _Cool for the Summer_ had turned into the summer’s hit that left questions on everyone’s lips about how such a raunchy song could ever come from the mouth of a pristine princess.

There wasn’t a video of any sort yet to reaffirm her new image. The lone appearance at gigs that felt smaller than the familiar grandness from past years was what Krista thrived her new revival as a different person. She wanted a platform to recreate and although the sizes shrunk with her step away from the mundane, it was a step higher and closer to her end goal.

Media itself had been on an ever-evolving tilt before Krista had stepped onto the tiniest stage imaginable. Different words and expanding meanings of words that had grown tired were erupting from all sides of the world. Social media teaching the older generations and the traditional media outlets what it meant to live.

It hadn’t been much of a surprise to the small girl to find herself at the center of a huge backlash her small song had created. People could interpret her words now and look between the lines worn into everyone’s head over the centuries of familial expectations. Their new perceptions on a world in a sexual revolution of sorts meant an easy examination on the implications of what Krista was singing about.

__

 

“So does this mean that our famous sweetheart of the pop world has been a lesbian this entire time? We’ll be discussing more about the issue arising on Krista Lenz more at 10 tonight.”

The click of the remote control rings in the quiet room as the static from the television screen’s radiation settles down into nothing.

No one dares to speak as Krista keeps her eyes settled on the blackened screen, searching for something to pop up and push itself into her face because it’s what she’s grown so accustomed to. But nothing comes out waving a hand in her face and she sighs quietly and sinks lower into the plush of her living room couch. She throws her head back and stares up at the white ceiling. Eyes are glued on her, waiting for her to say something about the slow build of the storm to come as newspapers and magazine outlets and TV producers line up out her door and sign onto a mile long list for an interview with the “confusing behavior” from Krista.

She lets her eyes linger on the light fixtures in the ceiling, blue eyes flicked with grays that seem to pool deeper and darker as she focuses on things that don’t appear to her.

Someone shifts on the seat next to her and she chuckles because Marco was the best manager anyone could’ve asked for when she made her shift from being her mother’s prize to a force to be reckoned with but holy shit was he an anxious boy when Krista got too caught up in her head to tell him what she was thinking.

Chuckling to herself, Krista lets her head fall to the side, her blonde hair falling to veil her eyes enough for her to see and enough for Marco to see her sincerity without calling everyone to attention. “They couldn’t even get it right.” She pulls herself up enough to angle herself better towards her manager, her best friend, and smiles quietly as she lets him drag a hand up to shove her bangs away from her face to tuck into behind her ear. “Why’s it so hard to say bisexual? I mean it’s not that hard to just give the word a chance for once.”

Marco smiles at her. It’s that silly one where his lips quirk up at the edges and meets his eyes with so much force it can either bring her own tears out or leave Krista smiling that dopey grin right back. For now she lets a smile linger on her face as she relaxes into herself and under Marco’s touch.

She knows he’s helping and he’s the best he can with what little he still knows about Krista. She appreciates it, appreciates every single bit of his friend’s help especially when he hears a harsh voice pipe up behind Marco’s sturdy body.

She knows the quiet shuffling coming from behind her best friend’s form probably has a similar look on his face that’s more telling than either of them can handle. Blond hair fading down into deeper roots had always contrasted harshly with the irritation that always seemed to cloud Jean’s eyes whenever issues around Krista’s existence made it onto news outlets.

Jean makes himself known, in a rather Jean-ish sort of way as he scoffs at the black screen and turns towards Krista over Marco’s shoulder and waves a hand in the air with little regard to how close he’s getting to swiping at his boyfriend. His eyes light like fire as he spits his words and Krista smiles at just how riled up Jean gets. “Just fuck them, Krista. Who gives a fuck if they can’t figure out how to get the word out of their shit mouths when the important thing right now is that they’re finally giving a damn about this shit. I mean, finally, they’re not turning a blind eye to how obviously gay this industry is and actually realizing that “hey, maybe the girls could be gay too”. Live a little in your sexual awakening.”

Jean leans heavily on Marco’s shoulder, his weight causing the taller brunet to hunch over towards Krista. Marco turns to give Jean a withering glare at how blatant his words are but Krista laughs again and nods her head at the incredulity written on Jean’s face as Marco tries to quietly reprimand him. They’re a mismatched sort of couple – one always there to calm or stir an emotion in the other and in their own special way, they were perfect together. And together they made the best set of managers and best friends Krista could’ve asked for.

“No he’s right. This is good. It’s only just the start, but it’s still good.”

__

 

The word travels and it’s interview after interview after guest appearances on every show that wants to show the wonder that is Krista.

She hasn’t changed much since her step away from the clean and pristine. Her wardrobe still consists of her staple style but the dresses in varying shades of pink and purple have turned over to going out and shopping for darker tones. Her little ½ inch heels making way for a collection of sneakers and boots that make her feel more grounded in her steps with how little she has to worry about tipping over in front of cameras and scuffing an expensive brand.

She would never say that she’s given up on being a girl. It’s the opposite of that, she says in every interview. She keeps her words straight and to the point.

Krista Lenz is still very much the same girl, she’s just grown more into herself and into her interests. You’ll still see her wearing the latest gowns on red carpets and award shows. There just might be an accent piece that wouldn’t be very typical of the girl the world once knew.

She talks about how the change has made waves and introduced her to new things like wearing combat boots with her favorite black and red sundress. She talks about her new friends, a new manager that understands what image she wants to create and also the fact that she’s tired of having to _be_ an image in the first place.

She doesn’t want to be known as the princess gone rogue for the rest of her life and she talks openly about it every chance she gets to let the world know that’s she’s done being every preteen’s role model.

She wants the feeling of running around town in her favorite dress without having to worry about slipping through fingers spread too far to hold her up. She tosses the clothes that don’t make her feel anything but regret and hatred for the years she spent listening to other people tell her what would look good on her frame. She kept the things that made her feel like herself, like a girl with a newly adjusted taste in clothes.

She’s tired and honestly she needs a break.

Marco comes to the rescue at the discretion of a very temperamental boyfriend and a set of loud friends.

The five of them – Krista, Marco, Jean and the loudest and hungriest friends Krista’s ever had in the form of Connie and Sasha – are splayed out across the living room floor in Krista’s place when the proposition arises. She’d met the two on coincidence. Jean had been college mates with Sasha and the friendship between them had expanded over the years since they’d graduated. The addition of an always eager Connie had come with Sasha and once Jean had been hired to work for Krista it felt natural to let the two linger in the background as a stronghold support system.

She’d just gotten back from a pretty bad hit at a national television station. Her attempts to rein in the conversation back onto the topic at hand had splattered straight onto the floor when every comment led back to Krista’s “lesbianism activities” and how she felt about disappointing an entire nation’s worth of kids.

Krista had kept her emotions in check the entire interview until finally she’d felt something inside of her snap and all she was left with was the ringing of shattering glass echoing in a silent studio as everyone stared down at the broken water glass covering the expanse of the stage floor.

Marco, the saint that he was, had rushed in the second the silence had lingered for a second too long and done damage control, accusing the host of straying from the interview questions and causing emotional distress to his client. His voice remained steady as Krista stood behind him, her whole body shaking in anger and her resiliency softening as time drew on longer and the stares grew heavier over her shoulders.

Marco kept talking, creating a peace treaty with the station and letting everything blow. They wouldn’t talk about Krista’s little blow up and Marco wouldn’t be forced into writing a press release on handling _the_ Krista Lenz with zero respect for her career. Marco let his voice carry through the room and Krista let the familiar warmth of a blanket she knew Jean carried around in her duffel wrap around her and lead her towards the small dressing room that held the rest of her things.

She couldn’t hear what Jean was saying into her covered ear, her mind racing with red etched into the edges as Marco dealt their hand without hesitation, but she let his voice and its harsh tones linger into her bones enough to get her to relax and walk forward from the mess.

She honestly doesn’t know where she’d be without the two of her boys.

Now that they’re back home, Jean having called reinforcements in the form of Connie and Sasha, there hadn’t been much to do except steep in how quickly the man at the station had written off Krista’s career to talk about something like who she slept with. It was infuriating for her but with the four of them around her, she was soon able to laugh at how stupid the guy’s outfit had been and how hungry she was after not eating all morning from the anxiety that had been building up about meeting that man.

They’d quickly ordered pizzas and desserts for delivery and after an hour or two of stuffing their faces and flipping through reality shows they found nothing better than laying on their backs, eyes roaming through the fresh white paint of the ceiling, and talking about what was on their minds.

Sasha talked about her upcoming dance classes down at the studio and how they’d told her she needed to eat better to ensure she stayed fit if she wanted to audition for the spot on tour. She said this all around a powdered donut stuffed haphazardly into her mouth and the small smile on everyone’s mouth as they all remembered that they’re sitting in a tour-veteran’s home who was on the verge of possibly making her hit single into a full-blown album if the world allowed it.

Connie wasn’t one to divulge into the scene that the rest had lived and breathed in for nearly their entire lives. Instead he talked about how his mother kept nagging him about finding a place closer to his secretary job downtown and finding a girl to settle down with. He’d groused how dumb the idea was and how he just wanted a life of freedom that he’d always dreamed of after moving to the city. None of them let on about the giggles threatening to burst through as they watched Sasha quietly pout up at the ceiling with the news.

Krista had a good grasp on what was happening in Marco and Jean’s lives. The two of them worked for Krista – being her left and right arm – as she slipped in and out of sanity from the attention by the cameras. They lived close by but being welcomed into the star’s home and given a room to themselves when the hours turned late was an option that they never took for granted and accepted as friends more than employees. They loved her to death and she loved them. She loved all of them.

Marco’s voice echoes in the otherwise empty home as he makes his proclamation.

A night out at a reserved club where they can all just sit and drink and sing a couple of songs like a group of wild animals without worrying about who might see or which magazine will be the first cover to catch a glimpse of a rowdy Krista.

The promise of booze and snacks grabs the attention of everyone but Krista lays there, her mind revolving around the idea of being able to make a fool of herself without remorse and maybe be able to sing a couple of her own songs with a disgusting pitch in her throat that no one would ever think twice of to comment on.

She sits up, her body full of pizza and cheap donuts and too much carbonation, and shuffles back to lean against the couch. She watches the excited looks of anticipation on everyone’s faces and tilts her head to the side as she stares at her hands. Running across the rings lining her lithe fingers she lets a wavering breath out – letting her eyes shut, the tension suspending out of her and lingering in the room as everyone watches her quietly until her eyes open slowly and she turns up to look at Marco.

“I think that’s a really good idea.”

***

The night was still young and the streets still alive as Ymir made her trek through the small crowd of the club.

Blues and Silvers had been rented out for the night by some big shot with a ton of money and the only people that had been granted access into the lush arena usually full of music and alcoholics were the rogue employees on and off duty and those that were on the invite list.

A tiny invite list if Ymir had any say on it. Whoever was hosting this party had made sure that only the closest and most loyal of their friends had made it into the room. No chance of paparazzi or booze-enthusiasts to disrupt the atmosphere were even allowed within a ten-foot radius of the club’s doors.

It was a bouncer’s wet dream to be able to turn down the hundreds that tried to flock outside the club’s doors to catch a glimpse at whichever famous wannabe it was this time to book the standout club and Ymir was in pure bliss as she watched the plastered girls trip over their too high heels and boys rumble about having the balls to punch out the bouncer and sneak them in.

Ymir laughs at the idea that any of these bozos could even come to stand up next to her let alone raise an arm against her and lets their words filter out as she lets only the one in a hundred whose name shows up on the list inside the building.

A rumble goes through the crowd as people scatter unexpectedly and pretty loudly make their way to running towards the alleyway the leads to the back entrance of the club.

 “Princess Money is probably here,” she laments to herself as she stands tall against the few that linger in front of the brick walls of the front entrance. She’d been assigned to stay put until Reiner was able to get through his introductions and played “hostess with the mostess” for the night’s money bags and then she would be able to slap out of the stuffy entryway and make her rounds inside.

Blues and Silvers had a unique set up when it came to the way they managed and ran their stock. There were four of them – Ymir, Reiner, Bertoldt, and Annie – and all in turn they acted as the place’s bouncer and the inner workings. The rogue employee would act as a server or a busboy but the liquor and maintaining a certain amount of enjoyment from the customers were all held on the four’s shoulders. This meant the occasional rotation in and outside the entryway and right now Ymir was very intent on getting to that hour mark where she could finally sit down and down a glass or three before calling it a night and heading home.

Even with there only being four to call themselves regular employees, the event tonight had called Reiner to attention making him panic and hire a couple of college kids to act as staff members for the few nights to create that illusion. Which in turn meant three managers would be enough for the night and Ymir had bounced on the chance to be the one to open up early to set up and then leave as soon as everything had settled.

Ymir settled herself on the small stool that stood at the front of the line, her arms crossed as she watched the looks of disappointment across the faces of young girls walking back down the street.

Whoever it was that’s finally made their entrance was obvious not too thrilled to hand out autographs and boy does the crowd look disappointed.

Ymir never usually got the message on who was making an appearance on the random weekend night and just like every other time, she never cared to listen as Reiner had made a big show and deal about the guest for tonight. The meeting had dragged on for too long and with the food dwindling away and the alcohol slowly ebbing out of her blood stream to amass into a massive headache, Ymir had chosen to nap as Reiner kept babbling away about Saturday night’s crew.

And now standing outside, the cool breeze of the summer night on a clear Saturday night far from the hours of early Sunday morning, Ymir was still bored as all hell and anticipating the second Reiner steps towards her so she can make her escape.

It’s an hour or so of sitting outside the club before the sounds of chittering from the dwindling crowd makes way to the hollow echoes of heavy boots on expensive tiles registers to Ymir.

She hops up from where she’d been perched, her arms stretching over her head as she sighs with the click of her bones realigning. Hunching over at work is a habit she really should drop soon before she pulls a muscle and hurts herself.

“Well look who’s finally made an appearance?” she rumbles through a small yawn.

Reiner quirks his lip to the side, arms crossed in front of his expansive chest enough to make a couple of the idlers back away from the red ropes outlining the front expanse of the building, and glances down at the watch on his wrist. “I said an hour and according to this little doohickey, it’s 11 PM and the party inside is in full swing which means you’re off the hook for the night.”

Ymir shoots a smirk back at the blond, crossing her own arms, “well thank god because I was literally close to keeling over and letting these hooligans rampage through as some kind of entertainment. Now if you’ll excuse me,” she shuffles closer to the entrance, her back hugging the cool metal of the doorway. “It’s time for me to grab a couple of shots and cause a ruckus in this quiet library for a club.”

Reiner chuckles as he watches Ymir’s retreating form. “Just don’t spill anything on the main guest. We really don’t need to cause any more problems with the customers and a lawsuit would cost more out of your pocket, Ymir.”

Ymir throws a thumbs up over her shoulder, her legs carrying her down the familiar hallway towards where the music rumbles loudest and the sounds of cheering echo across the thick drywall lining the entire club.

The dark colors of the club and the quaint feel to the environment had been the sole reason why Reiner had been so adamant on grabbing a hold of this location. With a little persuasion and remodeling, the rest had seemed to fall into place and the small space inside a large building had turned into a second home for not only Ymir but the rest of their rogue gang.

She slips into the party scene, the bass of the speakers rumbling loudly yet not enough to give a massive headache to anyone slightly plastered in the early hours of the night. Ymir watches as Annie rocks her head to the swing of the beat, her headphones cradled close to her ears as she ciphers through a million and one of her tracks. The tail of her ponytail bobs around as Ymir tries to find a place closest to the bar without impeding straight into the chaos of writhing bodies on the dance floor or the loud cacophonous yelling from a group huddled around the large table set in front of the stage.

There aren’t many people in the seemingly small room and the lack of the usual amount of tipsy individuals makes the room feel more spacious and gives Ymir plenty of room to slip in and plop her ass onto her favorite stool right in front of a surprisingly relaxed Bertoldt.

“Looks like a good crowd for you, huh Bert?” Ymir glances around the room as she swivels on her seat and watches the hired staff hurry about with drink orders and snacks coming out from the back. Her remarks always seem to come out sarcastic but Bert easily notices the small smile on her lips as she tries to hide behind a hand over her mouth.

Never one to tread on Ymir’s toes in worry of causing a ruckus and creating a sweaty storm in his own clothes, Bert nods in affirmation and smiles out at the people lazing about like cats, sipping on drinks too expensive even with the party discount Reiner always offered to those willing to shell out for a reservation. “Yeah. It’s a nice sort of calm right now. They seem like a really good group of people so the drinks haven’t been too obnoxious.”

Ymir chuckles at the memory of a flustered Bert being given an order of about seven Mojitos and another three Cosmopolitans to a group of fresh 21 year olds. Where these kids got the money from to pay for those shitty drinks was beyond Ymir’s realm of caring but a nervous Bert was never a good thing and she’d ended up having to climb behind the counter to help the tall brunet sort out the drinks before the patrons got antsy.

The small crowd on a night that had made Bert sweat during preparations had been a blessing for the guy and Ymir couldn’t help but be thankful that she wouldn’t have to jump in to came the wild.

“They don’t really seem like the type to want the frilly stuff tonight. Must be a special occasion or a specific reason to get wasted without the frivolity of fruit juice,” Bert comments, his hands already automatically mixing a drink for Ymir. No matter what anyone says, the girl could run through hell and back for a glass of daiquiri or a simple shot of vodka and thankfully it was never a pain for Bert to spruce up a glass for her whenever she was on a break. 

Ymir watches the club thrum with a slow churning energy. There’s loud chatter coming from a blond at the center of the table and she figures the guy slamming his hands against the table as he leans into a freckle-faced boy must be the host of the night. His loud voice radiates through the room, over the music and the quieter chatter from the people around Ymir, and she confirms that he must be the main guest with how at home he feels with the liquor dribbling down his shirt. She never had a really good grasp on what was going on in the world of the famous but the guy looked the part and that was enough for her.

“That guy must’ve had a shit week to be cashing out on that much liquor, huh?” Ymir comments quietly. She turns back to her friend who throws a glance over her shoulder at the group of people.

“Uh. Which guy are you talking about?” he asks. There’s something questioning behind his tone that Ymir can hear.

“The blond one with the loud mouth. Ain’t he the one that reserved the place? He seems like the pretentious type to book up an entire club to have a bit of fun with so little people.”

Bert blinks at Ymir and she catches something like concern flit across his eyes before he smiles calmly down at the counter. Grabbing a rag off the bar sink he starts the process of wiping down the surface sticky with lemon juice. “Not really but I’m glad you haven’t lost your judgmental ways, Ymir.”

She’s just about to ask what he means when the loud rampage dims into quiet as said blond calls everyone to attention. He’s flanked by a two very sticky looking friends and the words slur out of his mouth but they’re clear enough to discern as Annie turns down the volume on her speakers.

Blondie casts a glance behind his shoulders at the stage and Ymir lets the smirk slap right onto her face as she sips on her drink and waits for the inevitable. Mixing a group of young adults into a club known for the karaoke set-up and amazing drinks was always a plus for Ymir’s high standards of entertainment. “This should be good.”

A grating voice rings over the quiet and Ymir rolls her eyes as blondie makes a scene and a rumpled brunet clings onto his jeans to keep him from falling off the chair he was standing on. “I think it’s time to get this party into high gear. How about it Krista? You ready to butcher a couple of songs?”

Ymir’s eyes flicker down to where the loud blond is looking down across the table and finds another blonde, a girl from the looks of how long her hair is and how petite her frame is, and watches her shake her head. She says something too quiet for Ymir to hear but it grabs a big enough reaction from the guy.

“Well looks like I’m the one to start off the night’s shitshow.”

The blond hops off the chair and strides his way, a pompous air radiating daggers out of him, towards where a couple of the part-time waiters are huddled around the DJ station. Annie seems to have disappeared during the distraction (probably to take a piss) and as their policy stated, never leave the sound equipment without a guardian present.

Ymir watches the two waiters idling next to the turntables flitter around, their hands hovering but never touching the expensive equipment in wonder. She remembers the interviewing process with the two of them and how they’d both showed interest in Annie’s renowned talent with mixing as they were questioned.

They’d been hired on the spot by Reiner and Ymir agreed that they’d been solid choices out of the crap list of recent grads that had stumbled in with lies on their lips about wanting to learn about the art of intoxicating the crowd.

One of them is a short blond, the same color of Annie’s mane, whose fingers tend to skitter around the different buttons and switches on the table. His eyes flutter endearingly at the screen of Annie’s laptop that holds and processes her hard drive full of music to last months. Armin is the name that she thinks belongs to the curious face and although he looks like a kicked puppy whenever faced with Annie he has a strong hold on himself and his music. And also a strong hold on his friend next to him.

Eren Jaeger had come in like a force to be reckoned with and Reiner had practically fallen in love, under the annoyance of Bert, and had enjoyed the enthusiasm the kid had for working at the club. His goals were too high for Ymir’s taste – wanting to one day become a part of the co-owners’ crew and make amazing club mixes that people raved to across the world. He was also Armin’s best friend and the relation had left even Annie vulnerable to get the boy to calm down about finding work and had agreed the risk was worth the entertainment.

And entertainment did he bring.

The blond makes his way towards the two boys paying little to no attention at the commotion – their heads already familiar with the crowd’s short attention spans and interests. Blondie steps closer to Eren, far too close to be safe for the guy’s face, and before Eren can get his bearings and eyes off of the sound equipment to address the taller boy in front of him, starts spouting out of his mouth.

He’s obviously drunk and Eren is painfully aware of it and Ymir can’t help but hide the loud laughter building inside her as the blond keeps jabbering.

“We wanna use the karaoke machine. Can you call one of the important people to help us?”

Eren blinks at the guy, the small amount of height over the blond he gets from the lifted stage for the sound set-up enough to stir something in green eyes as he smirks down at the patron. “Important people, huh? What am I not enough for you sweetheart?”

A quiet thump comes from the backhanded swing Armin gives Eren’s arm but neither of the boys turn away from the staring contest their holding. There’s an expensive amount of electronics standing between the two and Ymir’s tempted to run in before the two cause more damage than Annie would ever want to hear about. But she leaves it alone as continues to sip on her drink and watch as the auburn eyes on a long face narrows in annoyance. Very pretentious indeed.

The stranger cocks a head to the side and sneers at Eren’s placid face. Knowing Eren’s tendencies to overreact and hyperventilate into action at the slightest riling up was something the four of them had kept in the back of their minds but watching how Eren seemed to step into a different terrifying character when faced with asshole pricks had been like watching a show unfold.

Ymir watched as Eren crossed his arms over his chest and let the other boy squirm for a second. She couldn’t help but be proud of the kid’s gusto.

The guy spluttered out a couple of jumbled words before Annie came to the rescue with an unamused look on her face that left the three boys lingering closely to the speakers retreating into themselves and away from the woman.

Ymir called over the little noise of conversations around them. “The kid wants to give the machine a go, Annie. Try not to kill anyone.”

Annie sent a withering look across the expanse of the room which was then directed down to a terrified blond with little room to get out of her way. Bending down to reach at the low shelves holding collections of CDs and Vinyls, Annie grabs a hold and passes along a thick binder to the guy. “Here kid. Just pick a song and type the code into the machine when you’re ready and it should work. I’ll get the connections ready while you guys choose.”

The guy tromps back to their shared table with a look on his face to hide the fact he’s probably sweating bullets from encountering Annie as Armin walks away with a smug-looking Eren trailing behind him, each gripping their serving. The two had definitely learned to be cautious around the drunk-type fairly quickly.

The blonde’s pace hastened by the leering looks sent over his shoulders and Ymir sat and watched the group of them decide on which shitty pop tunes they were going to be singing for the next couple of hours as she sipped away on her drink.

There was the option of going home for the night; the opportunity to sit back with Netflix and her tabby cat Titan was tempting beyond belief. But there’s a pull somewhere inside of her that tells her to take advantage of the free booze she’d be getting and the entertainment of watching a couple of kids butcher a couple of songs for the next few hours.

Sinking into the cool leather of the bar stool, her boot-clad feet on the metal rungs tapping out the rhythm of some random song Annie had buzzing, Ymir resolved herself to watching Bert handle bottles with familiar ease. The four of them had definitely found their place in the small amount of space the club offered. Bert keeping himself occupied between clean glasses and shimmery liquids; Annie letting her blood stir from the vibrations her speakers pumped; Reiner mothering them all and handling anything and everything that kept the place running in top shape. Ymir had at first felt like a floater between the terrible threesome but soon found her own footing in the form of constantly acting as a support system that lingered on the edges.

Annie, Bert and Reiner could have very well ran the place without her but the hours spent running back to help them set up new speakers around the room or helping out during the rushed weekends hours behind the counters had left Ymir finding her own little slot between them.

Minutes pass by and Ymir’s attention span slips into staring hard at the wall across the room from her. People have passed through in front of her, all trying to get to the bar and back to their seats or to their friends, without her giving much attention to the ruckus finding herself used to the noise. But very soon she finds herself looking back towards the table of misfits that blondie had come from, her eyes glazing over as she tries to make out their faces in the dim lighting.

Not that she could ever tell you if any of them were particularly famous. Living under a rock for most her childhood had carried straight into adulthood as she tried to navigate through busy cityscapes without intruding into the world of the rich and famous. The closest of ever getting close to those famous coming from the highlighted and underlined names on a special guest list for the night that she’d have to cross off with the pen she kept stuck in the loose ponytail on her head.

Her eyes flickered between the backs of everyone’s heads, focusing on the empathetic look on the blond guy’s as he seems to pout down at one of his friends. His lips jut out further as hands come up to plead to the blonde girl Ymir had caught sight of before. The movement peaks Ymir’s interest and she watches as the downturned lips quickly turn into a wide grin and the girl stands up and turns towards the stage.

Her skirt flows along behind her, the gentle taps of dark boots paired with a deep red in her knee highs that matched the shade of her sweater caught Ymir’s attention as she stilled the hand caring the drink to her mouth. Ymir’s lips lingered on the rim of her glass as she watched the short blonde practically skip her way up the few steps to settle her hands over the microphone stand like it was second nature.

The girl turned around and it took all of Ymir’s mental capacity to keep from dropping her drink all over the clean floors.

She was gorgeous. Blue eyes sparkled in the little light that Annie called a spotlight on the center of the stage. Her arms swung at her sides, fingers ghosting at the edges of the skirt’s hem, as she watched the blond guy fumble with the karaoke machine to queue up the song that they’d chosen.

Ymir could feel her breathes coming deeper and heavy as she gave the onceover about seven times before locking her own gray eyes on the girl’s face. She watched the nervous smile turn volatile and humorous once a yell had called over for the blond guy – John, was it? – to hurry up and find the song. Whatever had caused the smile on thin lips flew over Ymir’s head as she settled on leaning into the arm resting on the counter and watching the blonde laugh at her friend’s expense.

A light voice fills the air inside the club that leaves sparks flying and goosebumps rising on Ymir’s arms. It’s a gentle tone and Ymir thinks she could spend the rest of the night listening to it talk about even the most mundane topics without paying any mind to it.

“Alright so I guess since this is my party I should be the one to start off the butchering session. Uh. Jean. Is it ready?”

Ymir watches Jean give a thumbs up and a wink before turning back to watch the giddy smile flutter into a serious expression.

“Okay well. My name is Krista and I think it’s about time I killed this song, don’t ya think?”

A small cheer erupts around the table and from the few people paying attention to the small girl.

Something about the way the blonde holds herself in front of a microphone and prone to everyone’s eyes without a flinch that catches Ymir’s eyes. Her theory that Jeanbo standing in the corner of the stage like a proud papa being the famous and rich one to have needed the alcohol-rich party could have its holes.

The pulsing echo of a piano riff thrummed through the eerily quiet club as all eyes drew up to the petite frame on stage, breaths silent as though everyone was waiting for the best show of the century of the night to start.

The voice that filled the room made the goosebumps on Ymir’s arms intensify as Krista’s crisp notes kept pace with the beat of the music. Her arms floundered around in motions unrehearsed and spontaneous and the joy on her face could be heard as giggles erupted between the lyrics of the song.

_Tell me if it’s wrong, if it’s right I don’t care._

_I can keep a secret. Could you?_

_Got my mind on your body and your body on my mind._

Her hips swayed with her words, all passion seem to have been thrown into her movement as the cheers from the crowd in front of her egged her on. People hooted and hollered at the show Krista was putting on, her voice cracking as she strained to overcompensate on far too many of the notes.

_Take me down to your paradise_

_Don’t be scared that I’m your body type._

_Just something that we wanna try, ‘cause you and I,_

_We’re cool for the summer_

Her lithe fingers lingered on the metal of the microphone stand; pads of dainty prints barely grazing on the dark black color before flashing down to clutch hard against the fabric wrapped around a thin waist as she bent over herself and turning it into a body roll.

It was fair to assume that Ymir, by this point of the song, had turned into a blushing mess. Her face probably the color of a large stop sign but an expression that begged the girl from where she sat yards away to do no such thing.

She thanked every god out there that the entertainment she’d expected and stayed for from the group had been the greatest blessing to ever light up her eyes.

_Tell me if I won, if I did, what's my prize?_

_I just wanna play with you, too_

_Even if they judge, fuck it_

_I'll do the time_

_I just wanna have some fun with you_

Her thoughts distracted herself for a second as the words being thrown around felt familiar and off-putting. Ymir’s heard the song before, some comment she’d barely payed attention to as she watched the evening news or while she walked around the neighborhood listening to radios tuned into the local stations.

The song was familiar and she couldn’t place a name or face to the artist but the way the words seemed to settle perfectly onto the thin lips in front of her settled her questions for the time being. The direct inferences made on the lyrics were easy to see that they fit well on the petite frame that made Ymir want to dunk her head into the ice bucket hidden behind the bar’s counter.

There was more than enough time to figure out what song the blonde party queen on stage had chosen.

Questions she could very well ask in the privacy of her-

Ymir turned to drag a sip of her drink down her throat, a battle to get herself to internally cool off as her mind wandered and eyes stayed steady, when she nearly spat over Bert’s clean countertops as her eyes never left Krista’s form on the stage.

The song had gone into the bridge, the sounds of a soft piano filling the room again to accompany the loud shouting coming directly from the table in front of her. A soft hush fell through the crowd as a serious expression fell onto a sweet face. Her eyes showed the intent to cause a ruckus as she brought up a single finger to her lips and leaned forward, her blonde locks falling with her to shadow her face.

_Shh. Don’t tell your mother._

_Got my mind on your body and your body on my mind._

_Got a taste for the cherry I just need to take a bite._

The remnants of lime juice and rum dribbled down Ymir’s chin as she watched Krista bounce back into her enthusiastic jumping.

A few of the patrons had turned to dancing along to Krista’s singing, their heads swinging haphazardly around on their necks as they tried to keep from tipping their drinks onto the floor.

But only thought ran through Ymir’s head as she watched Krista vamp into the lyrics, her lips forming words like she’s known the chorus her entire life and didn’t need prompting to make a show of it.

_Just something that we wanna try_

_'Cause you and I_

_We're cool for the summer_

Dragging the back of a hand over her lips and chin, Ymir watches the song come to a close. She’s beyond flustered by the spectacle as Krista makes her way off the stage and back to her squad of friends.

There’s a certain amount of intimidation factor that keeps Ymir from rushing over and asking a phone number or a night away from the loud bunch around her. Letting herself reign in the glory of just being near the blonde as she laughs openly with her friends is enough for Ymir as he slowly sips her way to the bottom of her glass.

She can see that the girl is just as flustered by the performance as her. Blonde hair mussed up by the nervous hands threading through it like a bad habit.

Ymir watches as Krista pretty soon drains the glass in front of her from just the consistently small sips taken anxiously as she huddles close to talk to her friends.

This is it. The chance to make the first move and possibly grab a chance to say a few words to the girl.

Spinning on the creaky bolts of the stool, Ymir slams her hands down onto the countertop, startling Bert in the process.

“Hey Berty. Do you think you can mix up a little drink for me?”

Bert raises a judging eyebrow in confusion. “A little drink? You mean you want another daiquiri?”

Ymir shakes her head enthusiastically, resisting the urge to look over her shoulder. “More like a rum and coke or something. Something that’s easy to drink but would get a small girl plastered enough to talk to me.” Shooting a wry smile, teeth hopefully glistening in the better lighting over the bar, Ymir hopes that Bert will get the gist of what she’s asking for.

“Small gir- wait you don’t mean the girl that was just singing, right?”

Smile dropping slightly, Ymir crosses her arms on the bar top and tilts a head to look up at Bert’s tall frame. “Maybe I do. Maybe I don’t. Why? Do you think it’d be a bad idea?”

“Not really a bad idea but it is a risky move considering things.”

“Things?”

Shaking his head, Bert smiles back and moves his hands over the work space, grabbing at bottles without even having to look. “Never mind. I’ll make the drink and you figure out a way to get it to her. Eren should be back from his break in a few minutes.”

“Eren? The kid’s a fuckup. What if he ends up spilling the thing onto her?”

“He’s a big boy. I’m sure he can handle carrying a single glass considering Erwin left him with running a majority of the snack trays through the more crowded nights.”

“Yeah that may be true but did you look at the girl? She’s gorgeous and throwing the shitty kid into the battle field might not be the best example of an ace pawn. I need something more close to a rook to do this.”

Bert snorts to himself, his eyes on the glasses and bottle in front of him as he looks for the stash of Coke. “Your chess analogies are ridiculous and you really need to get out there Ymir.” He slides the finished drink towards Ymir. “If you don’t trust Eren that much then just take it to her yourself.”

Looking down at the glass, she feels like she’s facing an army of giants ready to rip her to shreds and throw her into the pits of hell if she made the wrong step. Ymir throws a look up to Bert, eyes pleading him to help her, but finds that he’s already moved onto another patron down the bar. She sighs and looks around the club.

She takes a deep breath in when she catches sight of messy brown hair. “Eren! Come here. Got a job for you.”

The kid all but sprints over to her side. Eren had always been the one to please his superiors and hearing that Ymir was one of them hadn’t boded well on his mood but he’d taken it with a spoon full of sugar and had turned to be a decent kid when he wasn’t trying to pick a fight with the more drunken customers.

Maybe letting the kid handle a single drink wouldn’t be so bad.

“Hey so I’m gonna need you to deliver this drink. It’s an important drink and if you spill a single drop of it I’ll get you fired faster than you can piss after downing 4 gallons of water. No pressure, though.” Ymir watches as Eren swallowed deeply and widened his eyes as he nodded his head. She tried to hide the smirk as she continued with her instructions. “Also, please try and restrain yourself from arguing with any of the customers until after you deliver the drink. I don’t need a bad impression from the wait staff to ruin this.”

Eren nodded his head again – his hair flopping into his eyes as he brought a hand up to brush it to the side. Green eyes stared intensely at her as he waited for directions to who the drink was going to. “Got it! So who-?”

“The angel of a girl that was singing just now? The really cute one? It goes to her.” Eren’s widen even more and Ymir worries for a second that those oddly large balls of green would just fall out and roll away from them with how excited he suddenly looked. “Actually hold on I really don’t trust you so let me just-“

She reaches over the counter, hands fumbling on the flat surface of Bert’s work surface where she blindly flicks a hand around to find what she needs. She lets out an “Aha!” as her fingers wrap around the cheap pen and she quickly uses her other hand to grab a napkin from the counter in front of her and starts scribbling a small message onto the rough surface.

Handing the drink over to Eren and setting it on his drink tray, Ymir lets Eren walk away with the napkin in hand towards Krista.

There was excitement radiating over Eren’s face and Ymir had to wonder what the hell she was getting herself into by doing this but she waved it off and watched the boy with an apron loosely clinging to his waist hustle through the few people blocking his way.

***

Krista was having the time of her life.

Listening to Marco’s suggestion for a night out to drink and socialize had done a world of good for her mood. That tiny feeling of guilt that had started to build up as the interviews went on and on about Krista’s social choices felt like nothing under the weight and power of alcohol.

She wasn’t allowed a lot by Marco was Connie and Sasha had been very open and adamant of making the most of the night and there wasn’t a second where Krista could say that she was without them or something to sip on.

The lulls in conversation and the sounds of played out pop music had been something that she was surprisingly fine with. Normally the sounds of her own songs from before she’d dropped her mother’s side would leave her anxiously picking at her nailbeds or running a hand through her locks. She felt no such impulses coming up as she laughed along with her friends and watched them all interact with little care for anything around them.

No worrying about cameras catching them “having too much fun in their young adult lives” or the fanatic crowd that asked for meaningless selfies and autographs she would find an hour or so later on eBay.

A cute little waiter shows up and catches the table’s attention. He seems to be shaking with nerves as he looks at the glass on the tray and then around the table at everyone’s faces. Krista smiles when his eyes land on her and widen in recognition.

Her grin grows wider as he sets the drink down in front of her, his grip sweaty on the glass but steady in that practiced way all the waiters in the club had managed. “Um. It’s a rum and coke I believe, Ms. Lenz. I hope you enjoy it; it’s a special treat from one of the managers.”

Krista tilts her head at the boy, Eren according to the nametag pinned above the pocket of his shirt. “A special treat?”

Eren nods his head as he cradles the now empty tray in front of him. He looks like he’s hiding behind the plastic circle and Krista smiles at the enthusiasm. “They thought you sounded amazing and they really enjoyed the performance.”

A blush rises on pale cheeks and Krista ducks her head slightly as the heat rushes through her from the compliment. It’s been a while she’s heard such a blunt analysis of her singing. Especially when the entire performance hadn’t been one of her best. “Um. Well tell them thank you.”

“No problem! Also there’s a note for you.” Eren hands a slightly wrinkled napkin across the table to her – his arm nearly catching and knocking into Jean’s nose. The waiter doesn’t seem to notice the fumble as he retracts back into himself and tries to make an excuse to leave their company. “Well that’s all I had to do so-”

Jean cuts him off with a snarl as he brings a hand up to touch the tip of his nose. “What the fuck is your problem? Didn’t they teach you in remedial school that knocking your nasty elbow into people’s faces is rude as fuck?”

Eren blanches at the remark and Krista can tell the furious rage she sees on Jean’s face is mirrored right back in Eren’s whose eyes seem to light up at the attack. Marco tries to interject, waving hands about between the two boys and throwing apologies for Jean’s sake but the staring contest has gone up the notch as Eren doesn’t seem interested in accepting them. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me, asshole. Keep your body parts to yourself when you’re on the job. Or I might just have to write out a letter of complaint.”

“A prick like you knows how to write? Would’ve thought you’d have to hire someone to help you figure out how to uncap a pen.”

Jean’s eyes narrow as Eren smirks down at him, his tray long forgotten and tucked at his side as he leans onto the table to catch height over Jean’s sitting position.

The rest of table – Sasha, Connie and Krista – groan loudly as they watch the two have a battle of the insults with Marco as a referee trying to calm the situation and end the fight. Their insults border on personal and inappropriate but the spark of anger that Krista had seen in both Eren and Jean’s eyes had definitely faded down into amusement as the shot back various quips at the other’s expense.

Krista laughs at the show as Marco completely gives up on trying to rein in the two. She looks down at the glass in front of her and remembering the napkin in her hand, goes about reading it. The scrawl is messy and jagged but easy to read.

_I hope you enjoy the drink as much as I enjoyed the singing_

_-Y_

Signed “Y”?

Krista looks up to ask Eren who “Y” is but finds that he’s already pacing back towards the doors of the kitchen, a little hop in his step as he slides between the crowd. A quick look at a pouting Jean being consoled by Marco who’s trying to hide a smile tells Krista enough of what had happened with their little battle.

Instead she goes about looking at the faces of everyone that had shown up to her little get together. She’d let Marco invite the important few, trusting him not to bring unwanted guests or too many familiar faces that could make her uncomfortable. The groups that had showed were delightful, keeping to themselves and enjoying themselves around her. It made her feel like a normal part of the Hollywood crowd without the pain of star-struck lovers.

Most of the faces she sees are recognizable from where she’s sitting. A couple of old hair dressers and makeup artists from the tour days or film stints she’d been involved in. Other relatively known faces were scattered about conversing with their own crowds. Many of them turned and smiled back at her wandering eyes, not making a big deal of the account.

Her eyes scoured the length of the bar itself, trying to find a face to “Y” and to give a proper thank you for the glass. She spotted the bartender easily, his height towering everyone seated or standing around the length of the shining countertop. The profile of a woman is sat in the seat in front of him, her body angled to the side as she talks to the bartender.

They don’t seem to notice how Krista is openly staring at the woman – the dark clothes and heavy boots standing out in a crowd full of small dresses and light fabric – until the bartender catches a glance and turns back to the woman and points towards Krista with a grin on his face. He says something that Krista couldn’t read.

She finds that instead of staring at the low ponytail on a rather lean body she’s very much looking at brown eyes widening as they lock onto Krista’s blues and grays.

There’s a similar fire she finds behind them that quickly putters down into embarrassment as a blush grows on the other woman’s cheeks.

She’s pretty in her own jagged sort of way.

Krista’s taken aback more by the blush than her own feelings and she smiles at the girl to diffuse any sort of mixed emotions.

Her eyes stay locked onto Krista as she returns the smile. It seems nervous and twitchy as Krista drops her gaze down to the finger sliding through the condensation on a nearly empty glass.

Deeming it fair to assume that the girl blushing even deeper at Krista was, in fact, “Y”, Krista slides herself out of her seat. Offhandedly letting Marco know she’ll be sitting at the bar for a bit, Krista leaves her coat in her friend’s care hoping they’ll get the hint to come running with an excuse if they saw something bad happening.

She had no idea what she was doing but a small conversation with someone that had bought her a drink was a nonexistent inconvenience.

__

 

Krista watches the pure shock on the other woman’s face once she’d realized she was walking in her direction. Sitting up in her seat and sliding the empty glass down the bar towards the bartender, she’d plastered a smile onto her lips as Krista slid between her friends.

Krista took residence on the stool next to hers, her knees accidentally knocking into the other’s as she spun around to set her glass down on the countertop.

“Thanks for the drink,” she starts. She raises a hand between them. “Name’s Krista.”

The other woman comes up to meet her with a strong grip that Krista finds very fitting for the aura she’s giving off and grins wide to show a couple of off-center teeth. “Ymir.”

Krista grins wide at the name. “Oh. Like the Norse giant? I remember reading about that when I was little.”

Ymir blushes and her eyes skirt towards the line of bottles stacked behind the bar. “Yeah my parents were a bit weird with naming their kid, I guess. Krista is a pretty name, though.”

“Thanks. I think it’s nice too.”

Ymir’s eyes are roaming and even though Krista’s favored for keeping her eyes on the glass of rum and coke in front of her, she can feel deep browns flitting across her entire body. She doesn’t know to feel embarrassed or flattered from the attention but takes it with stride nonetheless. Even when she’s flat out surprised by the bluntness coming from the other girl’s mouth.

“It’s very fitting. The name I mean.”

Krista feels herself blushing, toes curling inside her boots as they twist around to lock together her ankles. “Oh. Um. Thank you.”

“Also your singing!” Krista snaps her head to the side to see Ymir blushing even darker as her eyes sit wide and a panicked look crosses her face. “I mean you sounded amazing up there. You could really tell that you needed that little performance to let out whatever was bothering you. And the song choice just seemed really fitting and it suited you.”

Krista felt her breathing stutter as she watched Ymir fidget with her hands. She stayed quiet and taking it as an okay, Ymir continued talking. “I was actually planning on going home and checking it out. I’ve never really heard a song so open about stuff like trying new things. Usually girls don’t sing about being curious and it was pretty refreshing. But that probably helped with that whole jumping stint you were pulling on stage.”

She lets out an awkward laugh, her hand reaching up to rub at the base of her neck. Krista can feel the heat building in her cheeks slowly merging into a warm sensation in her chest. Ymir had picked up on her connotations. She’d figured out the implications of the lyrics and had praised them like they were meant to start the next revolution. Krista felt the tears threatening to prickle up to the surface. She swallowed dryly, trying to hide her voice as she replied. “Yeah. It’s a pretty different song.”

Ymir nods her head and watches Krista as she speaks. “Mhm. I really just wanna find the closeted singer and give her a high five or something. A small thanks for changing up the game.”

And it’s with that that Krista can’t keep it up anymore and her façade falls flat on its face and she feels wet tears drip into the corners of her eyes and slide down her cheeks.

She’s being stupid emotional and can only blame it on the multiple round of shots Sasha had pushed into her face just an hour ago but Krista finds it difficult to keep herself from outright sobbing into the sleeve of her thin sweater. She tries to keep her hiccupping to a minimum but as sobs threaten to rack through her body, Krista just leans forward and hits her head onto the countertop.

She can see from the corner of her eyes that Ymir is flapping her hands around. Her wrists and waving about over her head and rushing back down to hover close to Krista’s shoulder but not enough to cause unwanted touching. Her words are sticking in her mouth whether from her own drink or from the shock of having a small girl start bawling because she was complimenting a song she had no idea about.

Krista shakes her head and laughs through a sob. She raises her forehead off the surprisingly unsticky surface and brings up a hand to hover between them – palm facing the other girl. She waits a few second and laughs again at the confused expression on Ymir’s face.

“Um. Are you about to hit me for something I said or…”

Krista shakes her head and smiles. Tears a still making their last run down her face and she lets them fall. No need to worry over fallen tears. “I’m waiting for that high five you were talking about. Or if it is a thanks you wanna give then that’s fine too.”

Ymir blinks at Krista’s hand and then blinks a good four more times at Krista like she’s some kind of alien. Krista remains firm as she watches Ymir’s brain come close to short-circuiting with how hard she seems to be thinking about Krista’s words.

When she’s figured out what Krista’s talking she’s already out of her chair and hopping around on the balls of her feet like she’s preparing to run out of the place. Krista bites her lip and finds it cute and very unnecessary but cute nonetheless.

“No fucking way! You’re an actual singer? You _wrote_ that song?! Wait. You’re not that Krista that all the radio stations won’t shut up about, right?”

Krista nods her head and chuckles.

Ymir’s face drops and her mouth hangs open as she fumbles to sit back into her seat. She’s clearly off in her own world as her eyes glaze over and she goes about muttering to herself. “I gave a famous pop star a fucking rum and coke. I tried to hit on someone that’s gone on tours around the world. Holy shit.”

Krista’s choked up laugh brings Ymir back down to Earth and creates a deep blush on cheeks scattered with a barrage of freckles. She notices how the dark brown seems to get darker as the pink turns red.

“Apparently. And “hitting on” huh? Didn’t realize that’s what this is.” She leans into the hand resting on the bar and offers a cheeky smile.

Ymir blinks back at her and mirrors her posture. She slides on her palm, the calloused-looking skin going up to cover her lower face as she stares at her. She doesn’t deny the accusation and instead thrums her fingers along her cheek. Shaking her head, bangs falling forward with the movement she just whispers another “holy shit” before adjusting to sit up straighter in her stool.

Krista can feel herself blushing but forgets it in favor of leaning in in conversation.

__

 

Their conversations are relaxed.

They talk for a while. Friends come over to let Krista know that they’re heading back home and that they’ve had a great time. They give their thanks and Krista waves them off with a contagious smile and a wave of a hand.

Her four best friends are still lingering around the stage, sipping on their drinks as they talk to the people around them. She barely registers their conversations until there are shouts coming from their side of the room and Krista turns to find a determined face on Connie’s approaching body.

She prepares for some kind of silly excuse for another round of shots but instead finds that there’s frustration written across his eyes.

“Hey I’m going to head out now. I just- yeah I really need to get home or something.”

Krista frowns and the anxiety rolling off her bald-headed friend. “Everything okay, Connie?”

“Yeah. I guess I’m just tired and should probably get some sleep to get rid of this headache.”

Krista nods and watches Connie walk hastily towards the side entrance they’d used to get inside the club. She’s just about to turn to holler a question at her friends for some kind of explanation but instead gets startled by Sasha running after Connie and through the same door. She can’t make out what’s being yelled but it’s something acute to “I’m sorry” and “please”s following the two.

Krista turns back around, confusion and worry written across her face but she can count on her friends to explain the situation and she relaxes when she sees Marco walking towards her with Jean and her belongings in tow.

“What happened?” she asks them. She hopes for some kind of explanation for the sudden rush out of the club. Everything had been going smoothly and there shouldn’t have been a single thing bothering the two friends unless it was something that they were hiding. She didn’t like the idea of people she loved hiding things from her.

Marco sighs and sends a smile at Ymir who’s chosen to stay quiet in all the commotion. Most of the other guests have already left and Krista finds herself in a room holding just them and the bartender. Even the DJ has chosen to let a simple playlist play while she takes a break.

“So I’m sure you’ve realized Sasha’s been in a bit of a mess about Connie,” Marco comments. Krista nods her head and he continues reluctantly with a glance back at his boyfriend. Jean reaches out and grabs a hand and smiles enough to get Marco to talk. “Well Sasha pretty much lunged at the guy while we were talking about…uh, things and gave Connie a pretty intense kiss on the lips. I’m not sure if it was because of the surprise attack or if she’d hit his teeth too hard but he didn’t really take it very well.”

Jean cuts in as Marco’s voice starts to falter with hesitation. He never liked to talk about people he was close with behind their backs and Krista adored him for that. But for now she turned to the blonde for more information. “Connie flipped the fuck out. He started yelling about how it would ruin the friendship we’ve all had for years and how this wasn’t right. There was something about him “not feeling things” like that but I’m not really sure that’s supposed to mean but either way it got Sasha on the verge of tears. So then she started yelling back that they were basically already dating and kisses was just the next step.”

Marco cuts back in, his voice steadier now. “Connie was pretty frustrated at that point. But it didn’t look like he was particularly mad with Sasha than he was with himself and he just walked away saying that he just needed to go home.”

Krista lets the story soak in. She’s worried about her friends but the situation confuses her. Why would Connie react so poorly with something as little as a kiss?

Marco responds to her internal question like the mind-reader he is. “This is between them and I don’t think it’d be a good idea to butt into the argument. I’m sure Connie still loves Sasha and we already know Sash does loves him; they’ll talk it out soon enough and hopefully go back to normal once everything’s sorted. We’re just gonna have to wait.”

Krista nods, her arms coming to fold in front of her chest. “Yeah. You’re right.”

The four of them linger in the silence for a second until Jean’s coughs and catches everyone’s attention. “We’re gonna go ahead and head, Krista. Maybe actually sleep in our own bed for once. You going to be okay with-” he pauses as he takes in Ymir’s silent presence. He meets a scowl and turns back to Krista with urgency. “We can give you a ride home or call the car around if you want?”

Krista smiles and shakes her head. “I think I’ll be fine. In fact, you guys should take the car and I can sneak my way out and just walk back home. My jacket has a pretty good hood for the job.”

Marco tries to protest but Jean nods his head and gives her a knowing look and starts dragging his boyfriend along behind him. Marco jogs behind him, still raising a finger and words tumbling out of his mouth to keep safe and warm. She lets them know that she’ll be just fine and Marco’s about to protest more when Jean’s shout sounds in the quiet room. “C’mon now Marco. She doesn’t need another mom-ager.”

Krista laughs as the last two people in his friends’ group leaves the club and leaves her alone with Ymir and the bartender. She chuckles anxiously, her finger going up to thread into her hair. “I hope that’s okay.”

Ymir nods her head and smiles back down. She’s about to open her mouth to say something when their interrupted by a loud bang coming from the hallway towards the front entrance.

A loud burly voice shouts through the tunneled walkway and Krista stiffens as a rather large man steps into the club space, his black clothing intimidating and stretched across muscles Krista never knew could get so big.

She realized she was exaggerating the state of the man but the presence remained intimidating as he hollered into the near-empty room and stomped his way towards the bar where they were sitting.

Krista squeaks when the guy plops down right next to her, huffing and puffing into the hands covering his face as he faces the counter.

He mutters something in a language that she can’t understand and when he realizes that the person sitting next to him is, in fact, not responding, he drops his hands to the counter and turns to face Krista. Recognition flitters across his face and his eyes widen, eyebrows raising up into his hairline, as he shouts down at her.

“Ms. Lenz! I’m sorry I thought you were someone else. I just saw the blonde hair and figured it was Annie, I’m so sorry.”

Krista shakes her head and lets out a nervous laugh. She raises a hand and shakes it in front of her as she tells him “it’s okay.”

An arm reaches over and leans into Krista, the feeling of Ymir pushing her chest into Krista’s back causes another blush to rush to her face but the large guy in front of her must take it for her being uncomfortable with being mistaken for the wrong person. Ymir cuts in before he can apologize again. “Annie’s in the back somewhere big guy. Try not to insult the guests with your Russian lingo.”

The guy legitimately pouts back at Ymir over Krista’s shoulder. “How many times do I have to tell you? We’re German, Ymir. We speak German.”

The hand hanging over her shoulder waves off the words and Krista feels the woman behind her lean more into the touch and as Krista tries to keep from keeling forward into Reiner’s lap from the weight she can’t help but enjoy the feeling of someone relying on her to hold them up. Also the incredibly weird and enjoyable (?) feeling of Ymir’s chest leaning in certain places.

Krista keeps her blush at bay and tries to become a discreet audience to the bickering between the two.

She finds out that the burly blond is actually one of Ymir’s co-managers along with the tall bartender, Bertoldt, and the DJ, Annie, who was currently hustling their meager cooking staff through cleaning for the night. They’d all collectively decided that Krista’s party was enough for their daily parties from the reservation alone and that once everyone had scooted out, they’d lock up early for the night.

It was only 1 AM and although Krista felt bad for all the alcohol consumed by their tiny party, Reiner had shaken his head and smiled. “No problem, Ms. Lenz. Your group actually came up and got drinks. Usually the people just come in for the karaoke without buying much so this was, in fact, a lot better than if it were any normal day.

Reiner and Ymir talk for a bit longer, Reiner always trying to get the quiet giant behind the bar to say something while he wiped down and cleaned the bottles. Bertoldt wasn’t one to say much, apparently, but Krista made quick note at how he seemed more relaxed whenever one of his friends called him “Bert” and she did the same when she spoke with him.

Annie was still in the back but very soon waiters filled out from the swinging doors and Krista recognized Eren from the bunch. He was in a deep conversation with a short blond boy, their hands obviously tangled but hidden between their bodies as they walked towards the bin of cleaning supplies Bert had slid onto the end of the countertop. They and the other few employees grabbed their rags and sprays and scattered across the room.

Krista wanted to ask if there was anything she could do to help but she quickly quietened when Reiner spoke up and told Ymir that she was free to go home anytime soon.

“Oh c’mon Mr. Clean. You know you love it when I’m here to shout at the rugrats when their slacking on cleaning duty.”

Reiner crosses his arms and there’s a playfulness behind the serious eyes and Krista represses a giggle as he pouts. “More like it’s annoying as hell and pretty counterproductive considering Eren ends up arguing with you and poor Armin has to intervene.”

Krista’s reminded of the situation earlier with a slightly intoxicated Jean and a snarky Eren walking away in satisfaction and can’t help but chuckle into her palm.

She gets an amused look from Reiner. She smiles back and shifts in her seat to grab a hold of her things strewn on the counter. “I should probably start heading out too.”

“Do you need me to call for a cab? I saw your car leaving a while back – that’s why I’d assumed earlier that everyone had left already.”

Krista shakes her head and slides out of the seat, her feet plopping onto the dark tiles surrounding the bar. She sets her small purse onto the seat and slips into the coat she’d brought with her. “Mm. I don’t live very far and I already told the guys that I’ll walk home.”

Reiner shoots a nervous glance in Ymir’s direction that Krista does her best not to notice. Instead she spends her time slowly buttoning and zipping herself into the warmth of her coat and goes and grabs her bag. She looks up and is ready to give a farewell and “see you soon” when she finds Ymir nervously biting at her chapped lips. Her teeth may be crooked and stained with coffee but Krista couldn’t help but think of the memory of her father hiding candy canes in the pins and needles of Christmas tree waiting for her to find the most treasured flavor.

“Actually,” Ymir cuts in her thoughts. “I can walk you back, if you’d like. This city in the after-hours can be little terrifying if you don’t look in the shadows.”

“Ymir. Stop terrifying the guest. But I agree; it would be better if you didn’t walk alone so late at night.”

Krista nods her head and agrees. She waits as Ymir grabs a couple things from behind the counter. Apparently her jeans were too skinny to hold her keys and she preferred to store them along with her pepper spray where Bert could get it for the more drunk customers.

__  


Their walk back is quiet. It’s not an uncomfortable silence and Krista’s not worried like she would have been if it was someone like Jean walking quietly alongside her.

No. she’s very comfortable with only the sounds of their matched steps; Ymir’s breathing in the crisp summer air periodically letting Krista know she’s still there.

They also don’t hover too close. Even as the air stays cool, there’s still warmth that the city tends to linger on and Krista can’t wait to get back into the air-conditioning in her place to get rid of the smuggy feeling as she sweats it out in her coat. She thinks about unbuttoning a few buttons but before she can do just that, the two find themselves outside an expansive (and expensive) skyrise. Ymir looks up, her eyes tracing the entire length as she lets out an amazed breathe and Krista chuckles once she hits the very top. The penthouse that Krista calls home.

Krista fidgets for a second in front of the main doors until she decides to throw caution into the wind and let it slap her in the face once the time came. “Do you want to come in? I can make some coffee or something. I might have some wine.”

Ymir’s eyes come back to rest on Krista who feels like she’s been analyzed over. Ymir blinks and nods her head. “Yeah. Coffee sounds great.”

The ride up the elevator is a similar silence. The only thing said being the small questions asked by Ymir about the building.

“This place has over 50 floors how the hell?”

“You must be paying a boatload to be all the way up here, holy shit.”

“Are there any other famous people living in this building?”

“Did that lady seriously have a poodle in her purse?”

By the time they get to the doors of Krista’s place Ymir’s exhausted all of her questions and quietly pads along behind Krista who fumbles with her keys for a second. Her hands are shaking from nerves she can’t really place but the sentence “you’re inviting a pretty hot girl you just met into your home” keeps her on the balls of her boots as she pushes the door open.

Krista heads towards her kitchen, hands flipping up light switches on habit. She slips out of her boots at the door and hangs her coat on the coat rack by it and hears Ymir doing the same but tries to keep from making a show of how much it’s starting to affect her.

She needs to play it cool and not turn into a blushing virgin at the age of 24.

Krista turns into her kitchen and her voice cracks a little as she addresses the tall woman still following her. Ymir’s eyes are flying around the room and Krista doesn’t doubt that she’s had the same awestruck face since they set foot into the space. “So do you like it?”

Ymir raises an eyebrow and scoffs. She folds her arms in front of her but then falters and drops them at her side and instead leans back onto the counter. “This place is pretty huge for just one person. Also it looks classy as fuck. Never knew this was how the rich and famous lived.”

Krista turns around and bustles around to put up a kettle of water for their coffee. The coffee machine she’d gotten for a house warming gift from her mother stays standing in the corner – she always preferred the taste of doing it herself. “Usually the guys – uh, my managers Marco and Jean – they sometimes stay over when it gets too late for them to walk home. They don’t live far but it’s always nice to have someone around. It gets quiet here.”

Krista swallows and turns back to find Ymir watching her move about to make the coffee. She doesn’t say anything to set Krista at ease so she turns back around to grab the mugs and coffee grounds.

The sound of the kettle whistling stirs Krista and Ymir as well as it sends multiple movements into motion. Krista turning off the stove and reaching for the oven mitt to handle the water.

She’s caught off the mark when Ymir rushes forward and latches herself onto the side of her neck, rough lips dragging themselves along the sensitive skin that has Krista clutching at the handle of the oven door in front of her.

She gasps at the feeling of lips pressing harder against her skin and the wet feeling of a tongue sending waves down to her toes. Ymir’s practically sucking hickies onto Krista and all she can do is try to keep her breathing at a normal pace as hands wrap around her waist. Her own hands slide down to grip onto the hem of her skirt but she pushes back into the feeling of Ymir pressing in to her back; enjoying the warmth between their bodies.

Ymir seems to understand the approval written in Krista’s actions and spins the shorter girl around, hands never leaving the petite waist and lips only leaving contact to find a second point of touch.

Krista’s met again with calloused fingers roaming through fabric and hard lips finding purchase on her own. Her eyes are blown wide in shock. She’s never actually kissed a girl before. Never something bigger than the small goodbyes from old friends and for a second Krista doesn’t know how to handle it.

She flails her hands until they settle comfortably on Ymir’s own. The other woman has kept her eyes closed, head tilted and lips working against Krista’s for some kind of response. It isn’t an unpleasant feeling. She can feel the stirring building in her chest and swirling into her lower half as Ymir’s thumbs caress the curve of Krista’s waist.

Krista tightens her grip on Ymir and slowly closes her eyes, trusting Ymir to just know when she’s not comfortable and sinks into the kiss. She pushes her entire body against the other woman and gets a hum of approval in response. She can feel the burn of a gaze on her but keeps her eyes shut as Ymir pulls Krista even closer than before.

They’re practically head-to-toe together now; little room between them for the heat building inside their bodies and Krista can feel herself burning up even after having tossed her coat off a while ago.

Krista feels herself being pulled. They’re feet moving in a different kind of two-step as Ymir drags Krista by the lips and waist towards the living room. Krista bristles with nerves at the idea of the comfortable couch underneath them – underneath her, but relaxes as one of Ymir’s hands come up to cup Krista’s neck and they separate for a second.

Ymir is smiling, a genuine one with all of her teeth showing and Krista melts into the hands holding her up and pulling her apart. Something about the person in front of her relaxed Krista. The idea that this person didn’t care about the shiny things around them and was just happy with being right next to Krista left her wanting more.

The backs of Ymir’s knees hit the edge of the couch and Krista laughs as Ymir tumbles back, dragging Krista with her, and Ymir acts like she’s mapped and planned the whole act out from the very beginning.

 _She probably had_ , Krista smirks to herself. She lets it go and revels in the feeling of hitching her legs on either side of Ymir’s narrow waist – her body straddling the other woman leaving her having to look down into dark brown eyes. Krista hovers on her knees and looks down, waiting for some cue on what to do.

She bites at her lips trying to restrain the smile tugging at her cheeks but doesn’t have to worry long until Ymir’s bringing her hands up to tug Krista back down by her very cheeks.

They kiss. For a pretty long time.

Hands roam over the thin material of Ymir’s shirt and Krista’s sweater and lips linger as they separate every couple minutes to suck in a gallon of air. The taste of alcohol and smoke spreads across Krista’s tongue and down her throat as she tries to swallow down everything around Ymir. She can’t seem to get enough even as she sits down right onto the other woman’s lap.

The heat mixes between them and Krista can feel the sweat accumulating on her body. Ymir’s hair is in disarray from Krista’s roaming fingers and another swipe through with lithe fingers tells her that Ymir’s reactions match her own.

Their panting in the space between them and Ymir cuts off suddenly in favor and swiping her black tee shirt off of her body leaving her in a thin camisole. She’s not wearing a bra under it and Krista blushes as she can’t keep from staring down between them.

Ymir smirks and slides a hand down Krista’s side and taps a couple fingers against the edges of where her sweater sits tucked into the waistline of her skirt. Krista hesitates and Ymir’s already moving on from the incident and leaving her be until she finds herself looking back up at the sweater-less girl.

Krista sits, her entire upper body red as a tomato in just her white bra and the skirt hanging in place on her body. Their eyes lock for a good five seconds as the action processes in Ymir’s head.

Krista feels herself bristle and shy away as Ymir’s gaze slides up and down Krista’s body. She doesn’t touch – just lets Krista sit on her lap as she takes her in. Her hands graze over the sensitive skin on Krista’s stomach and although she flexes on instinct and catches Ymir’s questioning eyes, she nods and lets her touch deepen.

The cold finger wrap around Krista’s waist and she shivers at the touch but leans into it as Ymir reaches up to kiss along her neck.

The heat in Krista’s chest pools low and she can feel the urge to ground down onto the lap underneath her. The only sounds she can hear are the wet kisses being placed on her front and the moans leaving both of their mouths leaving her confused on who’s making what noise.

The attention she’s receiving leaves Krista dizzy and as she leans forward into Ymir’s chest, her hands grab onto the back of the couch where she locks her fingers at the same time her hips grind down. They both grown into each other’s mouths – loud and guttural that turns the tips of Krista’s ear warm.

Krista wants the friction. Needs it.

But it all grinds to a halt as she feels one of Ymir’s hands trace soothing circles onto her thigh. The touch is pleasant but as Ymir’s hand travels up she can’t help but tense up.

Ymir catches the change of mood at the drop of a hat and removes the hand that was otherwise travelling higher up. She sits back and the air between them settles as they try to catch their breaths and their thoughts from racing away from them.

Ymir’s the first to say something, her heavy breathing cutting through her voice. “Sorry. I’m- we really don’t need to. I just got excited, I guess. I’m sorry.”

Krista shakes her head, her gaze looking down between them but not focusing on anything. “No don’t be. You don’t need to say sorry. I’m sorry. I just- I’ve never done anything with a girl and um. I’m really not experienced with this kind of thing.” She slides a hand through her hair and bites her lower lip.

There’s a silence back between them. Krista fidgets and plays with her fingers. If she brought them up they’d probably smell like Ymir and she blushes hard at the implications of her own thoughts. Hair. She meant they’d smell like Ymir’s hair for Christ’s sake.

She looks up when Ymir gives a loud “tch”. There’s something akin to anger in her eyes but also something begging her to stop before she says something stupid. “You’re kidding me, right? Krista.” She shifts underneath her and Krista slides off and sits next to her. They both turn so their knees are touching and can look each other in the eyes. “You have every right to say no. It’s perfectly fine and I’m glad that you stopped me from doing something you aren’t sure you want.”

Krista looks down and Ymir takes her hands in her own and plays with the fingers she finds. “Yet. I’m not sure about what I want _yet_.”

She can hear the smirk in Ymir’s voice as she responds. “Well when that happens, princess, I’ll be right here waiting. I-if you want me to be of course.” There’s a hint of doubt in her voice towards the end.

Krista looks up and smiles big at the worried look on Ymir’s face. “Yeah. I’d really like that.”

They sit in the quiet for a while. Both of them play with the fingers between them, their sides leaning into the back of the couch as they chance glances at the other.

Krista breaks the quiet. “So do you wanna stay and watch a movie and eat the gallon of ice cream I have stashed in the freezer with me? I’m not really in the mood to call it a night.”

Ymir laughs and nods her head eagerly. “Sounds good.”

Minutes of shuffling around and a couple runs to the kitchen to grab the ice cream, two shiny tablespoons and bottles of the beer Jean always had stashed in the back of the fridge. The settle back onto the couch, shirts forgone for now and choosing to cover themselves with a thin blanket kept on the couch for when Marco always fell asleep in the middle of reading papers.

The movie drones along and Krista’s thoughts roam free as she sidles up close to Ymir, leaning into the other woman’s warmth as they spoon at the ice cream and sip at cheap beer. She doesn’t feel the least bit guilty for cutting it off earlier and relaxes as Ymir’s arm comes up to wrap around her shoulders, their legs shifting so Krista’s is propped up against Ymir’s chest.

For the time being, Krista is able to forget about all of the paparazzi issues and the threat of candid pictures of them cuddling half-naked at 2 AM.

They don’t talk much over the sounds of The Sixth Sense. It was Ymir’s choice and apparently her “favorite shitty” movie and Krista had caved in to the puppy-dog look so different from the leering looks of arousal that had painted her face just a few minutes ago. There are snide comments about the “really bad filming that was so bad it could be deemed good” and the choices with the scoring but otherwise stay quiet.

Krista makes an off-handed comment about actually meeting and knowing M. Night Shyamalan that has Ymir quietly whispering something along the lines of “I take it all back don’t tell him I said any of that” which makes Krista giggle.

They lay there, reveling in each other’s presence. Both feeling like they just fit for at least the night’s hours.

Krista decides that having someone like Ymir next to her, a steady body that seems to like her for no reason other than her capacity to have fun sometimes seems like a good plan to keep her head steady.

They end up falling asleep to the sounds of Bruce Willis’ monologue and their fingers settled along each other’s bodies.

Krista falls asleep with a reminder to thank Marco for the great night out.

**Author's Note:**

> It's been a while since I've written something and I'm really glad I got my flow back with a YumiKuri fic. I REALLY enjoyed writing this fic it's crazy. I'm thinking about maybe some separate oneshots about what happens to the Springles idiots but this is it for now. 
> 
> References used: - [Krista's outfit](http://www.olixe.com/wp-content/uploads/2014/02/WEAR-COMBAT-BOOTS-WITH-SHORT-SKIRT.jpg%20)
> 
> Hope you liked it! Leave a comment or send a message. Feedback is super appreciated. Let me know who you think the asexual character is and if Eren and Jean arguing gave you irrational feels. Also if you're still here after that 2 month hiatus then god bless. I love you all
> 
> Kudos and Subscribes are cool too!
> 
>  
> 
> [mamaarachne](http://mamaarachne.tumblr.com/)


End file.
